


Lost Things

by angsteater



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accident, Cas is tired of Dean being ready to die, Dean with suicidal ideation, Drunk Dean, Hospital scene, I have a hard believing Dean doesn't drive a stick shift, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, confrontational Cas, eventual destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:26:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5292713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angsteater/pseuds/angsteater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by by Tumblr prompt: "I almost lost you."</p><p>Cas confronts Dean after he gets into a car accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Things

"I almost lost you."

Dean doesn't open his eyes, doesn't look at the monitors beeping away, or the IV he can feel in his hand, or the face beside him that he can bank on being betrayingly distraught. He doesn't think about why he is here, doesn't want to remember why he hurts so much, or why he remembers Sam half carrying, half dragging him in through the doors of the ER. He doesn't want to think about the scrape of the plastic wristband rubbing his skin raw. He wants to go back to sleep. He almost can, the drugs pulling him into a lull, but he is trained to be awake and alert, and this training can't be subdued by a moderate level of painkillers.

"Dean."

He keeps his eyes closed. 

"Dean."

He opens his eyes, stares at the ceiling, the white shining in the sunlight coming from a window. He has a window room. Huh. He didn't get those a lot.

"Dean...please look at me." 

There is a break in Cas's voice, and Dean looks over instinctually, as if it is second nature to make sure that Cas isn't hurt. And Cas looks fine, no skin broken, no bones in casts, his tie only its usual level of askew. Good. He had gotten out of the car before it...before he....

He had been reckless, drunk, and the curves used to be so familiar, the winding road so comforting. But he was going so much faster than he usually was, and it was pouring down rain, and he hadn't shifted quickly enough, and the brakes were screeching against the ancient blacktop, now much more grey than black, yellow lines more memorized than visible in the middle of the road, shining where the light hit the rain-laden potholes. 

And the tree.

Cas had been there moments before, begging Dean to slow down, demanding, imploring, threatening to transport Dean to God knows where if he didn't just slow down. And then the tree, that goddamn tree. He had seen the tree, felt the car slip out of control, and looked over to Cas. He thought he had at least mouthed "get out," hoped he had been able to shout it in time for Cas to disappear silently, leaving only the noise of metal twisting around bark, of his head hitting metal and glass, of the thunder that rolled raucously above him.

Had it not been for the bits of car now embedded (however shallowly) inside of him, it would have been more like a cocoon. Had Cas been just a little slower with Sam, it would have been a coffin.

"Dean, what you did was very stupid--"

"Is baby alright?" Dean cuts him off, his throat sore, and his lips dry and hard to move. His words come out in more of a slur. Cas's face is shocked, probably at Dean asking about a car, and then narrows, because he realizes that Dean is trying to a) avoid discussion of his behavior, and b) show that he really does care more about that car than he does his own damn life. 

(And why not? The car hadn't ever done anything wrong, anything to deserve that. Not like him. 

Not like him.)

For a moment there, Cas looks furious, like he wants to put Dean back in that car and shove him towards that tree himself. But he pinches his nose, rubs the bridge of it, a very human thing to do to soothe himself.

"Forget the fucking car, Dean."

"Didn't think angels were 'sposed to use language like that," Dean tries to chuckle, but he's too full of bitterness, and it hurts to laugh, anyhow.

"Stop playing around!" Cas shouts, and stands up. Dean hopes that a nurse isn't hearing this. He could just picture one outside, taking notes, ready to spread the gossip. He should probably pay attention to Cas, who is looming over him, rage oozing from his vessel-body. "Dean, you could have died! Should have died! I could have lost you!" His eyes shut, and Dean notices that Cas's hands are clenched into fists, and shaking.

"Cas, buddy," Dean puts on his smirk. "I'm fine, see? Can't get ride of me that quickly."

Cas exhales slowly through his nose. 

"Besides...would that be so bad? Me being gone?" He doesn't think so. He can only think of how nice it would be, to lay down and not have to get back up, like a nap. And maybe he would be good enough to stay just out of hell. He doesn't care about heaven, not anymore, not now that he doesn't deserve it. He wouldn't mind a great nothingness, though. What a relief it would be to not have to care, or to hurt, or to--

"How could you say that? How could you even think it?"

Dean doesn't answer, doesn't admit that it's all he's been able to think about for a long time now. There's a long silence that extends past awkward back into an expectancy for an answer. 

"I'm so tired, Cas."

"And you think that gives you the right to just give up? What about the rest of us, huh? What about the people who love you?"

"Sam's gonna be fine, he's a big boy now. Probably a relief to have his older brother off his ass about everything."

Cas takes a deep breath, and doesn't open his eyes.

"I'm not talking about Sam. I'm talking about me, Dean." And now Cas slowly opens his eyes, staring down at the floor, and slowly moving his head so that he's looking down at Dean. "I'm talking about me."

Dean can't speak, not for a few moments, and Cas stands there, still as a statue, looking as if he'd fly off if Dean so much as twitched. He couldn't be saying what Dean thought he was saying. He couldn't be feeling a tug in his chest, as if something he had felt for so long had finally been put into words. He couldn't possibly be feeling a little guilt over this, now that...was there someone who wanted him around? And not out of obligation, like he was sure Sammy was doing, but....

Cas takes his hand and cups it around Deans cheek. He didn't mean to, he swears he didn't, but he leans his cheek into Cas's hand, brushing his lips against the palm. He hears Cas's breath shake, and then feels Cas's lips against his forehead. Slowly, gently, the touch lingering. And Dean can't move quickly, or else he'd pull Cas down next to him faster than they could blink, but he reaches up, pulling Cas down by the back of his neck, adjusting his face so that his lips touch Cas's.

It's soft, and it's gentle, and it's short, because a nurse comes in soon after with warm blankets and a covered tray for dinner. It's not as passionate as Dean wants, but his body can't handle that right now, anyway.

What it is is another soft kiss after the nurse leaves, and another before he falls back asleep, and it's a promise for another after Dean wakes up. As many as Dean wants, as long as he promises to wake up. 

Maybe sticking around wouldn't be the worst thing.


End file.
